


To Find You Through the Ages

by avgust



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avgust/pseuds/avgust
Summary: "A dream that can not be." Faramir sighed, "And a dream that ever was. For I loved you in those Eldar days, when our spirits were both young."Faramir is a soul reincarnated, and he hears the whispers of his long lost love.





	

He walked alone beneath the heavy branches laden with vines that twisted in interlace, forming a shadowy canopy above him, despite the hour of the night that showed itself with the dimming of the moon and the fading of the stars into dawn. He walked within his memories of dreams, recalling the touches and glances that had left his soul weary. But he liked to remember, enjoying the longing that filled his soul, leaving him restless until only the late night walks where his dreams lingered could ease his ache and settle his spirit.

The path he always followed was remote and covered beneath fallen leaves, brown and brittle, echoing still his shadowy memories. He was but a youth when first this path had called to him. None of his other mates had heard the voice that called, for it had only beckoned him, deep within his heart, stirring his strings of emotions. Far into the woods he would walk, until he would find a clearing, cut through with a gentle stream that ran clear and steady. Even if he tarried here for but a moment, that voice would continue to call until he passed over the cool water further into the clearing where the rocks were mossy beneath a mighty tree.

He remembered when first he had saw the other here, though it was nothing but a dream. He was a shivering child, lost and far from home. That long silver hair had shone underneath the moonlight like mithril, rich and flowing in streams of silk. No words were spoken between them in that first dream. Just the comprehension of something implied that spoke of another time, hidden within a smile and shining eyes, green, clear though frosty, like shards of ice. He wondered when he looked into those eyes, young though he was, what could cause one’s eyes to shine so.

Now, many years later, he found himself back at the clearing, walking the path that always called to him from his dreams. The tree of oak, ancient, grey, and twisted, still stood mighty, beckoning for his touch. He scanned the area, dark and foggy for signs of life, but he was alone. He closed his eyes and leaned back onto the moss.

Long silver strands that were accentuated by the moon danced freely in the crests of the wind. Long slender alabaster fingers reached out for him, caressing him. Soft whispers lured his face up, and kisses like gentle breezes brushed against his lips. Shining green eyes like emeralds, drew him into their star-filled depths.

His mind relaxed under the gentle elvish whispers that soothed his mind and brought peace to his soul, stirring it like nothing else ever had. Whispers like the gentlest of ripples on a clear cold lake, flowed in his mind. He let this peace wash over him, while the stillness of the night enveloped him.

Reluctantly he awoke from the dream, while the lingering image of emerald eyes sparkled and then faded away in the whisks of mithril hair. Long white fingers still reached for him, far within the fleeting dream. His soft brown eyes flickered open, blinking at the rising sun, breathing in the dewy fog covered air. For the break of the dawn always drove the dream away.

That peaceful dream that lured him ever was both his comfort and great tormenter. All through his years he had heard those words. And now he had grown from a curious child into a young man, thoroughly enthralled with the beauty of the vision that called only to him.

And all through the years, that disembodied voice called and spoke the same words,

"Come to me.  
Silver stars reflect my eyes,  
gentle breezes extend my caress,  
the warmth of the night envelopes you in my embraces.  
Come to me…"

And the boy always did, until he grew into a man. The path was always the same; same twisted branches laden with vines, the years causing them to grow longer and wider. He always heeded the call: A memory that had never happened, but was always calling at his heart until rest he could not find. And the night would leave him restless until walk he could no longer resist, back down the trail that led him through that ever familiar forest.

He was a man now, with flowing shoulder length hair and bearded. Even though he was grown that voice still called to him, luring him far from his home. And there he sat, watching the rays of Anor accentuate the fog, until finally the man stood to leave. He always awoke alone, the vision simply that, a dream within a dream and nothing more. A dream so strong though, that he always felt that he could pluck that mithril figure from his visions. But it was just a dream. The visions were never real.

******************************************

He arrived in Minas Tirith just before Anor had completely risen, moving through the city streets as a shadow, just as he always had through the years. Faramir, youngest son of the Steward of Gondor, went to his study. He pulled out an ancient volume and let his eyes adjust to his candlelit room. For hours on hours he poured over the elvish words, trying to translate the newest words to flow through his dreams.

"…the moon is my memory.  
I have followed you here,  
have found you through the ages.  
Come to me."

Faramir put the book down, letting the scent of the the aging vellum thick and heavy just like the ages fill his senses. His soft brown eyes pondered the message, pondered the riddle. The voice had been calling and he always answered, year after year back to that ancient tree. The voice was nothing more than an illusion, never there, never flesh and blood.

Had he lost his mind? Was he as weak as his father had reminded him day after day? Faramir lowered his head, defeated, weary. Year after year he had listened to the voice, yearned for those visions, walked that same path only to find the loneliest of solitudes in waking.

A knock at his door brought Faramir back to the present reality, but that painful longing still beat within his heart. He nodded listening to his brother's words, a speech so different from his own, words with such vigor, strength and bravery. Faramir smiled, listening on, wondering what powerful spirit moved his soul.

Boromir looked down at the book Faramir had been reading. "Elvish, my brother?"

Faramir nodded, not wanting to say more. He looked up to Boromir, wishing he was ever more like him. But even though they were of the same flesh and blood, their souls were ever yearning for something different. Glory and might just could not melt the ice in his heart, and could do little more to kindle his own embers deep within. Bravery and strength could not chase his phantom dreams and lessen the hold that the visions had on his mind. The dreams still haunted him, despite the want to mold himself more like his brother.

Boromir bade him to join him, reminding him that their summer solstice was upon them, that the feasting would soon start and the bread would break and the people's voices would be merry. A feast they would have until the break of dawn.

And just as he had told him, Minas Tirith was alive with the celebrations as if the heart of the city had finally awoken. Faramir let his mind relax, the longing in his heart suddenly diminished. The handsome son of the Steward of Gondor smiled, the curves of his lips accentuated his rugged handsome features.

With drink, song and dance the day turned to night. Stars burned with a light of the Gods and the night breezes were fragrant with the sweet scents of the earth. Faramir turned from a lovely maiden who did nothing to stir his heart this night. How his heart just yearned for something else, something that only lived in the twilight of his dreams.

And that something else seemed to pull him to turn. A flash of emeralds danced through his sight, and Faramir froze. Bewitching emerald eyes from his dreams had materialized before him. He turned back to where he had saw them, but no one was there, just the scent of an ancient forest, peaceful and fragrant in its arcane wonder.

As if in a dream, he scanned the room, but not a sign of that specter was before him. Just laughing mortal faces, eyes subdued, voices booming. How could it be that his dreams now haunted him in his waking, or was this simply the line between sanity and madness?

Feeling warmth beyond his limits for comfort, Faramir stepped out of the banquet hall out into the balcony. Blazing stars lit the sky but couldn't burn as bright as those emerald eyes. He wondered of the phantom that haunted his dreams for all those years.

But little time he had. Long silver hair blew around a figure below him, the strands seemed to beckon for him to follow. With haste he did not know he possessed, Faramir dashed through the crowds of people, drunk with celebrations. Boromir's words of alarm fell death on his ears.

This was no dream this time, the figure before him was real, leading him out of the city, down a path that changed the landscape into piney forests and hilly rocks. Faramir moved at a pace that was maddening. The figure he followed seemed to flow across the landscape.

And then he was back at the familiar path with the canopy of twisted branches above him, vines spilling down. Faramir paused at the clearing beyond the clear river, taking in the sight of the ancient oak tree. Dark silhouettes were accented by stars but his eyes could not make out any details, if the other being was here. He looked around and tried to make out any sounds beyond the gentle rustling of the trees. Not a sound. He leaned against the ancient oak and closed his eyes, trying to will his dreams to come to pass.

An alluring whisper by his ear forced his eyes to open. A face, dark in shadow, veiled under a hooded cloak was peering into his eyes.

"Who?…" Faramir started to ask, but his lips were captured in a deep kiss, a wicked deliverance of years of tempting visions.

Faramir melted into the kiss, it was so inviting, delectable and although this was a stranger, the kiss was so familiar like he had kissed those lips a thousand times before.

"The wait of time can never erase the love I have for you, Silirun." The phantom spoke in a voice that sounded as music to Faramir.

His mind fumbled around the name he had been called. He didn't know that name. This figure had him confused with another."I am Faramir, and we have never met." Faramir wondered if the specter had shared his dreams, if he were the one who had cast himself into them.

"Faramir, a name befitting for a gem so lovely." The other smiled, understanding that he needed time to remember. "You are wise beyond your years, are you not? Do you not see and comprehend the ages of old and possess the wisdom that goes with that knowing?"

Faramir frowned. How did this elf know all this. How could he know that he was ever called an old-soul and impressed even the most learned men in all of Gondor. Yes they may have shared their dreams, but he did not know him.

The other sat by him, silver hair shining under the hood, lips forming elvish words Faramir did not know. A small fire was lit, giving the man the light he needed to better see the other. A face so alluring with bewitching emerald eyes smiled back at him, demanding nothing but his sole focus. And Faramir obliged, finally staring into the phantom that haunted his dreams and pulled him to this very spot for all those years.

"How is it that you have haunted my dreams? I am awake, dream you are not to me any longer. Please tell me your name."

A sparkle lit up in the elf's eyes, his smile deepened. "You still do not remember, but you will in time." He ignored his questions, and leaned closer in, capturing Faramir's lips again, letting the tactile sensation of the course beard rub against his delicate skin, while his hands worked their magic on Faramir's body.

The enticing dreams he cherished measured not even close to the sensation of this manifestation. The phantom's touch was beyond his comprehension. All the years of his torment and his longing pooled into his groin, burned within his heart, causing him to grab the elf into his arms tightly as if afraid that if his eyes would open, dream it would only be once more. But this one before him was real, of flesh and blood and wonderful heat full of desire.

He pinned the other down, and with a a yearning from years of bitter unfulfilled longing, Faramir could little restrain the fervor that caused him to pull off the delicate tunic the other wore. He felt his eyes feast on the pale skin, slightly illuminated by the glow of the fire. He removed his own shirt, and rocked his hips on the one below him, who purred his own satisfaction.

Faramir could scarce remember a time in which his loins burned so for another. With speed and much dexterity he was able to finish the undressing of both the mithril specter and himself.

Elvish words brought a calm to his racing thoughts and heart, soothing him to take his time, for even the ages could not sunder them right now. Faramir relaxed, almost drunk with the voice that lured him down into a sinuous kiss, while his hands moved ever over the other's body.

And then Faramir was flipped onto his back, and that elf began to play his body, as one who knew exactly what pleased him most. Faramir urged him on, mind spinning in ecstasy and when the elf had taken his throbbing member in his mouth, Faramir all but lost control. As gentle and sweet as the elf's words had been, his tongue however was a very wicked thing. And Faramir shuddered to his core as he completely gave into the pleasure. He opened his eyes, and the blazing stars above began to blur, and his breath echoed in the night's cool breezes.

"You taste even better than I remember." The elf's voice was pure silk, rolling across the night. And Faramir almost demanded the elf take him now. And at this, that wicked creature just laid by him, turning his gaze to him.

"My dear Silirun, ever I was under your control, for I was the one who yearned for you, utterly wanting your complete dominance of me. I must admit that I crave for you to bring me to sweet ruin now." The elf's words were thick with want. Not wanting to wait any longer he then decided to cast those memories back into Faramir's mind.

As Faramir climbed over him, taking the vial of oil the other now handed to him, it was as if within his spinning head that the elvish words had transported him to another time all together. The dark grass gave way to a stone floor, their robes and clothes melted into a grand bed, the stars sparkled into lanterns, the night sky a vaulted ceiling, and that giant oak tree morphed into a pillar of stone, carved as a solid spiral holding the grand building that now enclosed them.

He looked down and saw that very elf who had haunted his dreams, was also there too, below him, eyes full of want, calling out his name. The elf looked the same as he had seen this very night, not a line or wrinkle had been on him. Just his eyes seemed less as hard emerald gems, but sparkled in gentleness and in wonder.

"Now, please," The elf begged in a strange tongue, but although the words were foreign, the meaning was known to him and he heard himself answer back.

"You are ready." The voice responding was more deeper than his own, and it used that same tongue. He pushed his finger in one last time, hitting that spot, teasing the beauty below him to writhe with want.

Faramir's own desire was burning beyond any man's control, and he coated his length eagerly as the memory still spun within his mind. He paused before pushing in, locking eyes with the otherworldly creature whose bright emerald eyes pulled him ever in. Deep he pushed, not caring to go slowly. He set a feverish pace, hitting that spot over and over. The elf for his part, didn't care to mask or restrain the display of pleasure he felt.

But the pleasure was more to Faramir who through all those dreams had tasted the residue of the bitter want, this realization ignited his memories of a life lived long ago in another age, where he had lived and loved and then had died. The bitter gift of man had torn them apart. And the elf had been with him through his days, watching him grow strong and then grow feeble, but never leaving his side. And then he had no more memories. Just the ones that had called to him in this new age and life.

The beauty below him, and the pleasure he felt was pulling him over the edge. He erupted his release, screaming out the name of his lover who also had spilled his own release. The elf pulled him down, realizing that Faramir finally remembered it all.

"My dear Silirun, or should I call you Faramir? For I find that I very much like that name." He caressed and stroked Faramir's brown locks.

Faramir smiled, understanding now why he could hear the elf's calls when no one else could. He stirred curious now, as the understanding of it all became ever more clear.

"Call me what you will, Thranduil." Faramir had remembered the name that haunted his dreams. "I wonder though, how did you come to find me?" He thought back on the lure of the voice that would pull him until resist he could no longer if peace he wanted. The voice always called him to that very same tree, that ancient oak that had stood for beyond an age.

Thranduil stirred a little, melting more into the strong of Faramir's arms. He closed his eyes, taking in the husky smell of Faramir, for whose spirit had captured his own heart thousands of years ago. The fate of elvish faes he knew, but he did not know the fate of the souls of mortal men. And this man's soul had traveled through the ages, reborn and resown, fostering within this shell of a delicate man. Thranduil knew that the awakening of that ancient soul would give Faramir the strength that was needed now. He had been stirred to find his lover again, and he knew now that purpose that Faramir was to fill was ever of importance.

"Ages began and ages ended." Thranduil whispered, his voice like the gentle night's breezes that blew across the lands. "And even though you had passed to where I could not follow, I could not let you go. As I told you all these years ago, I would search for you through the ages, for I would never fully be able to forget the spell that you had put me under. But Eru, it seems, would understand the importance of your spirit's return. You still have a roll to play. And as for me, I can only say that I needed to feel you one last time, for I too need strength. So I have found you through the ages. And in my visions you always answered my calls."

"Aye, for years I would walk alone beneath branches laden with vines and twisted, with the moon and stars ablaze above. And sometimes I would linger ever, just listening to your voice as soft as silk, and I would sleep so peacefully in content. But then, I would always wake to the dimming of the stars and moon, and sadness would fill my soul. I never felt fear, just the bittersweet of wonderment for who it was that called."

Faramir's voice broke off, while he thought of the turbulent times in which they lived. It paralleled the strife that he had known an age ago. People often wished for different times than which they lived in, and he only smiled, realizing that turmoil traveled the ages as well. He held onto his lover, who had found him through the very folds of time. But he knew that their time was slowly ending, for the dawn had always brought an end to his dreams before.

"Let us walk that path one last time, for the coming of dawn will sunder us once more." Thranduil's softly whispered, echoing the thoughts that ran through Faramir's mind. The lament in his voice held a poignant tone, tugging at their souls. He rose and dressed as silent as the fading stars that dimmed ever more within the sky.

Faramir too rose, as if in the trance of a dream, his movements were slow, as he too dressed. It seemed to him that he watched from afar another a person for whom he did not know. But this was still his body and still those memories were his. And the elf who stood before him was once his lover, now found again. But with the turning of his days, he knew time would see them torn apart.

"You must go." Faramir let the haze in his mind dissipate, realizing finally that the spell that had held him all through his years had finally been realized. As with any dream, he knew that reality was ever the victor. A dream could never trump the realm of reality. "You must go and I am left alone to call your name with out ever hearing a reply. I will never hear from you again, I fear."

Faramir understood it, despite the youth of his years, his soul had already lived and died in a life before. And even if Thranduil were to stay through his years, their destiny still would only be a sundering once more, for Faramir was fated the gift of man.

Thranduil did not speak, for some pains were too dear to reflect on. And they lingered on that path as the stars finally faded into the dawn.

"I have found you, and now I must go." He wiped the tear that flowed down the delicate cheek of Faramir. Thranduil smiled now, gaze steady. "Through the ages how I searched for you. And now with that final one last knowing, now we must part."

"A dream that can not be." Faramir sighed, "And a dream that ever was. For I loved you in those Eldar days, when our spirits were both young."

And Thranduil smiled, before he kissed his man one final time.

The winds and leaves blew, and Faramir could feel the first rays of the rising sun. Long he stood, with his eyes closed, but just as ever through the long years when his eyes finally opened, Thranduil had gone. Faramir sighed as once again his phantom had faded with the dawn, for dreams were ever born of stars and did not belong to the dawn.

Faramir did not feel like heading back home just yet, the fleeting essence of his long ago lover was still in the air. And like the essence from that elf, the night too was fading ever to the rising dawn. He knew he would be missed, but the dark of the path had not yet been touched by the rising sun, as if the shadows wanted to pull him back.

"Do not look back."

A tug pulled at his heart and he turned seeing the great Minas Tirith awash in the brilliant morning light.

The time of trials would soon be coming for him, Thranduil had whispered before the dawn. Have heart, he had been told, for the darkness of days were soon to return. Faramir sighed, grateful to know that the peace of his dreams were indeed memories. Memories that were true as only a love like theirs had been. He understood why Tharnduil had searched to find him through the ages, for now he felt a gentle peace and a calm wisdom, the likes of which he had never felt before.

For the first time in his life, he realized the inner strength he had in his wisdom, in his patience, and in his greater understanding that he was just as mighty in his own way. Faramir had been given a peace, a peace that settled his soul even as the darkness was ever approaching. He smiled as he walked alone, finally at peace for the days ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> this was not beta read, and is just a shameful attempt at getting two of my favorite Tolkien characters together.


End file.
